Albatross Around Your Neck (Let It Go)
by seastarved
Summary: Even though it had been another life, another him, he feels the shame of it like it had been yesterday. When guilt plagues Killian, he attempts to make amends. (Spoilers for Poor Unfortunate Soul)


_Graphic here: _tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1gPopck

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

He stares up at the light, bright and white above him. Sunlight, air, _life_. Despite the choking grip of the tentacles around him, he keeps his eyes trained on the light. It is the only thing that is keeping him from panicking. His chest feels like it is on fire, trying to make do with the little air that he had inhaled on the way down. He had struggled at first, his body fighting against the bindings around his torso, hook striking out at the scaly limbs but it had done nothing to deter the woman who had decided that today was to be the day he finally died.

Now, his body is getting tired. He feels heavier, his throat burning. He tries to struggle against her hold but she only tightens her grip, holding him down under the water. He feels the biting cold of it in his very bones.

As he slowly sinks deeper and deeper, his mind inexplicably turns to Blackbeard. Had he felt this too? Had he felt the same sense of helplessness? The same tightness in his chest as his lungs screamed out for air, the same fierce determination to survive followed by this devastating feeling of defeat? Had he heard the voices too? His loved ones calling out to him, asking him to fight, to live, to breathe?

It feels like it has been a lifetime since that night. A thousand years since he had been the man that had destroyed Ursula's innocence. Every minute with _her_ changing him— no, not changing him, he had been this way before— before poisoned thorns and scaly demons. Before heartache and betrayal. He had been this man. He had been loyal and good and brave. Being with her feels like scraping away at the anger and the bitterness that had become his mask.

(He had worn it so long that it had begun to feel a part of him)

_(Until I met you)_

He feels his awareness begin to slip away, the light above him getting dimmer.

He feels the weight of his body, holding his head up becoming an immensely difficult task. The air leaves his lungs in little bubbles that rise upwards. He watches them idly as they carry his breath away with them. He begins to lose sense of time, like it has been hours that he has been under the water. He finally lets go of trying to escape or even hold himself up. His head lolls backwards and his limbs go limp.

The tentacles around him finally loosen, feeling his struggling stop. He drops faster after that, the tentacles rising up though the water towards the light that now seems unattainable. They eventually vanish from sight and there is only the deep blue of the ocean. The deep blue that is slowly turning black at the edges. He's getting lightheaded and it is harder and harder to hold on to the sparse air in his body. His heart feels like it is constricting and in the midst of all of this, he can only think of her.

Her eyes blazing in anger, her magic sparking at her fingertips. And just like that, he _sees_ her, in all her furious glory. She is angry with _him_, her hair sweeping in gold swathes across his vision as she says something emphatically. But he can't hear her. He can only watch her mouth move as if in slow motion, her lips pink and soft and so warm. Always so warm.

She is the thing that drives the chill in his heart away. But, she is gone and the cold is the only thing left. He tries to remember his last kiss with her, tries to recall every detail of the moment. It had been early this morning as he had bid her goodbye at the diner. Her lips on his in a sweet peck, smile bumping with smile. He tries to remember the weight and the warmth of her arm around his waist as they walked, her head on his shoulder. The scent of her hair making his eyes flutter close as he dropped a kiss on her temple. He was completely helpless when it came to her, unable to stop touching, kissing, holding.

Gods know, he hasn't been in love in this way ever before. It consumes him. The flame burns steady, flaring up occasionally into a roaring fire and in those times he feels like he will break into a million pieces if he does not tell her how much he loves her. He hasn't said it yet, the words, but he has tried to show her in a thousand different ways. Kissing it into the skin behind her ear, stroking her wrist with her hand in his.

And now, as the last of his life floats up towards the light, he hopes only that she knows. He hopes she knows that he has loved her with every jagged piece of his sloppily bandaged heart.

His eyes are fluttering close now, his arms and legs limp as he falls down, down, down.

She is there though, her hands cupping his cheeks, shouting at him still. He smiles weakly and opens his mouth to speak, to _tell her._

The water rushes in and then, there is nothing.

* * *

She is running. David had called her not two minutes ago. All she had heard was _Killian_ and _hurt_ and _almost drowned_. The rest had disappeared into the rushing sound in her ears. She should have driven, damn it! But, the second after David had hung up, the only thing she could think to do was run.

She reaches the docks breathing heavy, her throat dry. She stumbles over to the small group of people standing at the edge of the water, pulling someone up onto the docks. She falls to her knees as soon as she is close enough to touch. Everyone else moves away and she is grateful for the space because it feels like she cannot breathe anymore, her heart pounding in a deafening rhythm.

Another day, another time when he had lain like this flashes in her mind. He had been less pale then but his hair had stuck to his forehead in the same way. He had been just as still. It is as though she is reenacting that moment, pushing down on his chest, trying to force the breath back into his body. But this time, it is different. Every second where he's not breathing feels like a small infinity. But, eventually, he arches up into a breath, turning on his side to cough up the water he had inhaled.

She finally begins to breathe steadily herself.

"What happened?"

The words come out throaty and broken, like she had forgotten how to speak. Her eyes remain fixed on Killian, her hand running up and down his arm.

"Ursula. If Ariel hadn't found him, I don't know if— "

She looks up to see that the mermaid sits on the edge of the water with her tail still submerged. She looks concerned, her eyes wide as she watches Killian regain his breath. She mouths a silent thank you to her and the woman smiles gently in response.

_He's breathing, he's breathing, he's breathing._

"I'm sorry, love. I tried to—" He breaks off to cough. David gets down to his knees and helps her bring Killian into a sitting position.

"I tried to make amends," his voice is a rasp and she can tell that it is hurting him to speak, flinching every time he swallows.

"I tried to make amends for what I had done to her but she does not seem inclined to forgive."

He drops his gaze to the ground, guilt twisting his features as he continues.

"Can't say that I blame her."

"Killian, what did you do?"

He turns to face her then and it hurts her to see him this way, holding it all in, bearing the pain on his own.

"I tried to give back her happy ending and she took it."

* * *

It is much later, that she confronts him about it all. After the day is gone and they have done all they can to delay whatever their new guests were planning. When they are allowed to grab a few precious hours of rest.

He had made for Granny's right after the meeting they had had with Regina in the darkness of the library. The woman had been flustered, angry beyond belief at how she had allowed herself to be fooled earlier in the day. They had made plans, more lies and subterfuge. All of it coloured by an urgency that had only been exacerbated because of Rumplestiltskin's return.

And then, they had separated for the night. Her parents towards the apartment, Regina towards her house and Killian towards Granny's. He had barely mumbled a goodbye in her direction before walking away, his steps quick, his posture stiff.

The two of them hadn't had time to talk all day and he had to be kidding himself if he thought that she was about to let this go.

So, she had followed him.

* * *

He hears her footsteps as she comes after him. He had tried to make a quick escape but he had underestimated his Swan's determination. A tiny smile grows on his face at the thought and he slows his pace until she catches up with him.

Her arm comes to loop around his, instinctively he assumes because she stiffens for a second before she leans into him, her head at his shoulder. He pulls her closer and they walk wordlessly up to his quarters.

* * *

She can't seem to hold on to her agitation, exhaustion rapidly taking its place. She leans on him for support as they both just about stumble up the stairs.

When they finally reach his room, she walks in and plops down on the edge of the bed. The room, lit by moonlight and the streetlights outside, feels safe, cozy, warm. Just like him. He shuts the door and follows her. His eyebrows rise almost comically on his forehead when he spots her, seemingly startled by the ease with which she's made herself at home here.

(If she's honest with herself, so is she)

(But that's a conversation for another day)

"Alright, talk."

He smiles but it is the same smile from before, when he had evaded her at the station. She knows him and she knows that when he smiles, his face comes alive and her heart beats just that much faster, not like this, hollow, insincere. His mouth opens to speak but he seems to reconsider when he sees the look on her face, dropping the smile and turning away from her to stare out the window instead.

"It's not a pretty tale, love."

"It's okay, I don't scare easy."

He chuckles softly then, shaking his head.

"No, you don't."

Then, he speaks. He tells her a story of a man whose heart was blackened by hurt and anger. A story of a young girl trapped by her own father. His voice is low as he continues, his face turned resolutely towards the window. He tells her of how the man had been trapped too, working for a demon, chained to his will. A means to an end he said but he wonders now if it was worth the pain he caused. He talks about himself with words that ring with self loathing. It comes off him in waves, how much he hates himself for doing the things he had done in the bloody haze of vengeance. He tells her of how the man befriended the young woman, promised her freedom and adventure and the opportunity of love. He tells her of how the man betrayed her.

She keeps quiet though it all, letting his voice fill the silence of the room.

* * *

He keeps his face turned away from her, still gathering his courage to face her after his revelation. He realises that he has been holding his breath for a while now and he lets it out slowly, shutting his eyes as he prepares himself for the disappointment or perhaps even disgust that he will see in her eyes.

He clenches his fist and begins to turn around when he feels arms come about his middle.

"Thank you for telling me."

She whispers it into the space between his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss there afterwards.

"You don't hate me?"

His hand reaches for hers, resting against his heart. It trembles just a little, as does his voice when he asks.

"No."

Her answer is firm, her voice strong. She coaxes him into turning around and he finally sees her. She looks—

There is a soft smile on her face, concern in her eyes. She looks _soft_, lit by the dim light in the room and gods, he wonders what he had ever done to deserve to love this woman. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and he leans into her touch, finally feeling the weight of the day's events, leaning against the window frame. She drops it slowly until it is resting against his heart once more. She moves a touch closer, the scent of her hair filling the space between them.

"Just please keep all your parts inside your body from now on, okay?"

He laughs, it is still tinged with bitterness, that hatred for himself not completely soothed by her touch, her words. But, he smiles and she smiles back, moving her arms about his neck, holding him close. He buries his face in her hair and breathes deep. He feels her inhale deeply as well, then press one, two, three kisses against his chest.

(It is everything)

"Don't leave me."

It is hardly a whisper, muffled against his skin. Her arms tighten about his neck and he pulls her closer still.

"Stay with me?"

"Yes."


End file.
